Clay: Armed and Dangerous Page 5

  Rylie’s attention snapped from thoughts of the sheriff to concern for her friend and her friend’s ranch. She walked up to the men, feeling like a pixie in the land of the giants. “Is Skylar all right?”

  Luke looked down at Rylie and gave her that grin of his that used to make her knees feel like gelatin. “Hey there, Rylie.” His friendly smile vanished as he answered her question. “Yeah, Skylar’s fine. She’s not even here. But that’s the second attempt this week on our vehicles. We’re setting up cameras and doing guard duty in shifts.”

  He turned back to Levi and Clay. “Skylar left town for a week with her new husband Zack Hunter, and my wife Trinity went with them to do a little shopping in Bisbee, to get some clothes for our honeymoon. My thinking is that the thieves knew they were out of town, so that’s why they picked last night to strike, not counting on me being around.”

  “Their trip sure was sudden-like,” Clay murmured.

  Levi shook his head, laughter in his blue eyes. “Well, if you’d seen those two before they left... my guess is they’ve found themselves a hotel room and won’t be seeing daylight for a while. I don’t know what Trinity’ll be doing with herself.”

  Luke snickered. “Spending lots of money on clothes I won’t let her wear longer than five minutes.”

  Rylie had to laugh, too. The last time she’d seen Skylar was at dinner a couple of nights ago, and Zack couldn’t keep his eyes off of her even though they were sneaking up on their six-month anniversary.

  When the two lovebirds couldn’t stand it any longer, Levi, Luke, Trinity, and Rylie had been left alone to finish dinner and clean up the mess—not that anyone complained. The men were more than happy to polish off every bite of the enchiladas.

  Later, Skylar had called briefly to say that she and Zack were going on a little trip to Bisbee, with Trinity tagging along to hit the shops, and she’d call when they returned.

  Clay smiled, but his expression went serious again. “So there’s a good chance that thieves are people who hang around enough to know what’s going on at the ranch.”

  With a nod, Luke replied, “Yeah. But the question remains: is this Guerrero or some other shithead with a plan?”

  The mention of Guerrero’s name turned Clay’s smile to a frown. He cut a quick look at Rylie, and she felt it like an ominous warning.

  He’s worried I’m going to act like an idiot again.

  She wondered if she should be offended, then blew it off. It was kind of cute, how he was concerned about her. Clay Wayland would learn soon enough that she could take care of herself. In fact, she might enjoy teaching him.

  “Sooner or later, Guerrero will make a mistake big enough to take him down.” Levi took off his Western hat and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “His boys will screw up and leave a trail, and we’ll get them all.”

  Luke’s scowl came close to matching Clay’s. “They didn’t screw up last night. I couldn’t even follow their tracks more than a mile. They know the land, and they know what they’re doing—and what law enforcement might look for and find.”

  “Why don’t I head over to the MacKenna ranch with you?”

  Clay stroked his hand over his mustache and Rylie imagined what it would feel like to have that hand stroking her instead. “I’d like to check everything out myself.”

  Luke said, “Suit yourself. Check out whatever you want, but I’ve given it a real thorough once-over.”

  Check out whatever you want. Rylie studied Sheriff God-bod. No shit. Can’t wait to check out every inch of that.

  Clay’s eyes met Rylie’s and for a moment she was sure he’d read her mind. He smiled and tipped his hat. “See you later, Rylie Thorn.”

  Chapter 5

  “Finally? Seriously?” Rylie nearly dropped the phone onto the kitchen floor in mock surprise.

  “I know, I know.” The excitement in Skylar’s voice was unmistakable. “We know it’s late for a reception, but we got married so fast in such a small ceremony; it’s time to celebrate with all of our friends.”

  Rylie relaxed against a counter, unable to stop grinning. Skylar sounded so giddy and happy. “So when? Where?”

  “We haven’t decided on a place or day yet. I just wanted to know you’d be on board. It wouldn’t be a party unless you showed up.” Rylie was sure she heard Zack in the background, murmuring something like “Party with me. I’m the desperado.”

  Rylie pulled her pocketknife from her jeans and flicked it open and closed. Open and closed. “Honey, if it’s a party, you know I’ll be there. It’s just... I still can’t get used to the idea that you’re married.”

  “Zack. Not now.” Skylar giggled and Rylie rolled her eyes, imagining the sickly sweet, almost-newlywed crap going on at the other end of the line. “I know what you mean,” Skylar continued into the phone, “I keep thinking I’ll get used to it too, but so far it’s still one giant head-rush.”

  Even though she was dead-set against marriage, Rylie crammed her pocketknife in her jeans and tried to muster up joy for her friend who sounded so happy, and put a smile in her voice. “Tell that cowboy he’d better take good care of you, or I’ll kick his ass.”

  “I’ll let him know.” Laughter bubbled up from Skylar. “What do you think about our having the reception next Saturday? We could have a barbeque and dance here at the ranch. Trinity will already be gone, but I think the timing would work for everybody else.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Rylie held the phone with one hand and tugged at her earlobe with her other as she did her best to put some enthusiasm into her voice. “And don’t worry about me and all my rules against marriage. You know I wouldn’t miss it. I’d never let you down, Skylar.”

  “Great. Be here at noon.” Skylar sighed, a sound of contentment. She was so damn happy that Rylie couldn’t help but feel pleasure for her friend. “What’s new with you, sweet pea?”

  Rylie’s body warmed at the mere thought of the sheriff.

  “I’m going out tomorrow night with Clay Wayland,” she said aloud.

  “The sheriff?” Skylar’s voice perked up. “I’ve met him—talk about one hell of a sexy man. I just knew you’d find him hot. Promise to give me all the juicy details.”

  “Don’t I always?” Rylie’s smile was wistful. Their night-long girl gabfests had come to an abrupt end with Skylar’s getting shackled. She didn’t see them cranking back up anytime soon. That’s what marriage did to a person. Isolated them. Took them away from their friends and family. It started out all sweetness, but it would end with yelling and distance and pain.

  After they said their good-byes, Rylie punched the phone off and set it on the countertop.

  Married. What the hell had Skylar been thinking when she eloped last October? Rylie shook her head. It had been good to hear Skylar’s excitement all these months, but Rylie just hoped her friend had made the right decision and would be happy next year and the year after that. Skylar deserved that and more.

  But as far as Rylie was concerned, marriage was a mistake she was damn sure she would never make. Happily ever after was a long damned time, and till-death-us-do-part, that was too much to even consider.

  She did her best to shake off the trapped feeling she got whenever she thought about marriage, then headed out to saddle Sass for a quick ride of the ranch boundaries.

  Less than half an hour later, she and Sass moved along the fence line, blue sky stretching endlessly above them and wavy thick grass shimmering in a hot breeze. The day smelled like fertile ground, leather, and horse, and that was fine by Rylie. Riding was the ultimate freedom, and riding her own stretch, land that she’d worked and suffered for—nothing beat that.

  Except maybe wild sex with a certain larger-than-life sheriff...

  Rylie sighed and gave Sass’s reins a gentle tug, turning toward the back quarter of the ranch. She so didn’t need to go there, back to obsessing about Clay, but it was hard to avoid. The ranch’s farthest corner at the base of the Chiricahua Mountains seemed so peacefu
l and quiet she didn’t have much to keep her mind anywhere else.

  Sass’s hooves made soft clop-clops on thy dirt path as Rylie scanned the fencing, looking for holes or tears. So far, nothing. She hadn’t even seen any tracks in the dirt that didn’t belong.

  She rounded another corner, the hot breeze making its way over her face—

  Rylie pulled Sass to a halt, and sat ramrod straight in her saddle.

  She sniffed the air again, just to be sure she hadn’t imagined the smell that snapped her back to full alert.

  There it was. A fruity, almost bitter scent. A man’s cologne, expensive, but jarring. Unpleasant.

  Rylie squinted, searching the shadows around nearby brush and trees. She knew that smell. She remembered it. Before she could get hold of herself, images rushed at her, grabbing her mind and forcing her heart to full gallop.

  Hands grabbing her...

  Reggie’s toothy leer as he held her down in the backseat of that putrid old car...

  Torn leather digging into her shoulders, her arms as she fought him...

  “You’re gonna enjoy this, bitch. You’ve been asking for it…”

  Rylie swore and ripped herself out of the past. Her fingertips flew to her cheek, which was somehow stinging from the slap Reggie gave her all those years ago. He’d ripped off her shirt, yanked down her pants, and he was working on getting his jeans off when Levi showed up.

  Her heart thundered even as she reminded herself it wasn’t much of a fight after that. Levi had snatched the little bastard off her and thrown him down. Reggie, proving he was stupid on top of being an asshole, got up, and then Levi really took him down. Punched him so hard Reggie probably heard little birdies tweeting in his brain for a month or two. The jerk lost a tooth, got his jaw broken, and had to eat soup through a straw for a long, long time.

  Levi never should have been charged for hitting the creep. Everything got sorted out soon enough, though, and Rylie had felt even safer when Reggie pulled up stakes and left town after graduation.

  Safe. Until now.

  Rylie glanced around again, trying to squash the frantic worry making her muscles go tense. She hadn’t imagined that smell, and she’d never known anybody but Reggie to blow that much money on cologne that turned to skunk oil the second he slathered it on in the morning.

  She sniffed the air again and smelled nothing. The woods seemed as quiet and empty as ever, except—

  Rylie’s skin prickled all over, and her breath caught.

  She felt eyes on her, somebody watching.

  “Get a grip,” she whispered to herself, but Sass snorted and danced. “Whoa, girl. Easy there.”

  The horse tugged her head against Rylie’s grip, wanting rein to run, wanting to charge straight home, back to the safety of the barn and the ranch house and the hands, and somewhere on his own rounds, Levi.

  This was stupid. She had a bad case of the shivers, and now she’d given them to Sass. Rylie got pissed at herself, which helped the panic until bushes rustled in the distance.

  Enough. Enough!

  She gave Sass the rein the horse wanted, and the Appaloosa whirled and bolted back the way they had come. Rylie ducked low to miss branches and gripped the horse hard with her calves. She kept one hand in Sass’s mane and the other tight on the reins and her saddle horn. She refused to let the horse run wild, made her control the gallop—but she let Sass run. Wanted her to run.

  They broke into open ground a minute or so later. Hot air blasted into Rylie’s face, and sunlight flowed across her face, her eyes, turning the entire world yellow. She couldn’t smell Reggie anymore, didn’t feel that sense of being stared at, but her heart was pounding harder than Sass’s hooves and she couldn’t slow it down.

  Another few seconds and she got enough sanity back to bring Sass to a trot before the mare worked up a lather. It was too hot for this kind of crap. What kind of idiot was she being?

  The barn came into view, and Rylie felt twice as stupid for flipping out over nothing. She pulled Sass back again, bringing the horse to a fast walk. Somebody was riding out to meet her, and he was coming so hard his Stetson blew off and bounced across the grass. He didn’t even slow down.

  Levi. She could tell by the set of his shoulders and the way he controlled his horse. Nobody could ride like her brother.

  It’s okay, the teenage part of her brain babbled. Levi is here. Everything will be fine now.

  “Dammit.” Rylie reined Sass and swung down from her saddle, ground-tying the mare by dropping the leather straps to the dusty trail. She let out a big breath, almost as big as the horse’s long, exasperated blow Sass gave her. “I do not need Levi or any other man to feel safe. I can take care of myself.”

  And she could. She’d been doing just that since she was out of high school. So why did she feel sixteen again, vulnerable and pinned, helpless against whatever was about to happen?

  Levi reached her, reined, and dismounted in one fluid motion. “Ry, what the hell? You were riding like the devil himself was on your ass.”

  “I— Never mind.” She tried to focus on Levi’s blond hair, how it was mussed and hanging in his face, making him look like a kid again. “I just got spooked.”

  Levi frowned and looked twice as worried. “You don’t spook.” He glanced in the direction she’d come from. “What’s back there?” Rylie rolled her eyes at her own idiocy and tried to show Levi she was okay by smiling. It probably came off tense, so she added, “Nothing. Really. I thought I smelled some cheap cologne. It reminded me of Reggie, that’s all.”

  Levi’s face darkened to a deep maroon that made Rylie’s nerves jitter. Levi had control of his awful temper now that he was older, of the bad anger genes their non-sainted father had given him. Special Forces and his work with the U.S. Marshals had taught him to manage the constant waves of rage that had driven their father to drinking and womanizing. Still, every now and then, Rylie could see shadows of the demons Levi battled, and she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he ever turned all that rage loose.

  When Levi spoke again, his voice was low and grating. “Reggie Parker’s still in Las Vegas.”

  Rylie’s jitters shifted to surprise. She put a hand on her hip and stared into her brother’s bluer than blue eyes. “You’re keeping tabs on him? How? You don’t work for the Marshals anymore.”

  “I have friends. They’ll let me know if he’s on the move—at least as soon as they know.”

  Rylie had no doubt Levi would be checking in with his buddies the instant he had a moment alone. Her big brother. He still had her back, no matter what. She approached him, tentative because he was glaring over her shoulder, studying the area behind her.

  “It’s probably nothing. Just a bad memory, or maybe Guerrero trying to give me the willies since I yelled at him on his own home turf.”

  Okay, that didn’t help. Levi turned impossibly redder in the face. “You did what?”

  “Did I forget to mention that?” Rylie heard the goofy nervousness in her own laugh and hated it. She’d never show this side of her to anybody but Levi. “I called him Francis. And accused him of being a crime lord, an asshole, and—oh, yeah—a bad crime lord since he claimed not to know what was happening to the trucks in Douglas.”

  For a few seconds, Levi tried to talk, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth. Then he just shook his head and stared at the cloudless sky. “There just aren’t any words to describe you when you get on a roll.”

  “I can think of one. ‘Bitch’ would do nicely. Ask Guerrero. I’m sure he’d agree.” Rylie patted her brother on the arm. “Come on. I only got half the boundary checked. Go with me to do the other half.”

  Levi walked straight to his horse and mounted, muttering, “Damn straight. I’m thinking I need to keep a much closer eye on you.”

  ***

  Clay tossed the manila folder onto his cluttered wooden desk and settled back in his chair. A frown creased his face as he stared out the glass window of his office an
d into the busy control room of the county sheriff’s department.

  He was having a hell of a time getting his mind on the job. He disliked the paperwork end of being sheriff, preferring fieldwork, so he delegated what office duties he could, but sometimes, there was nothing for it, especially when he had nothing but greenhorns and goof-offs in the office with him. The papers just had to be filled out.

  Papers about truck thefts and interrupted truck thefts.

  Thoughts of what he wanted to do with Rylie Thorn sure beat the heck out of signing dozens of documents or trying to catch a gang of thieves.

  He remembered how she’d come storming into his office, her eyes blazing and how she’d laid into Deputy Quinn, then later, into Francisco Guerrero, as if the man couldn’t snap his manicured fingers and have her throat slit on the spot. She’d looked so damn fiery and sexy that Clay had just stood and watched her carry on for at least a minute or two.

  “Sheriff?” Quinn’s voice cut into Clay’s thoughts, forcing him back to the truck thefts at hand.

  He glanced from his desktop to the dark-haired deputy who stood in the open doorway of his office. “Yeah?”

  Quinn stepped into the room and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. The armpits of his tan uniform were sweat-soaked, and perspiration coated the man’s upper lip. “Another ranch got hit last night. They knocked out the man on guard and got three trucks.”

  “Damn.” Clay slammed his hand on his desk and stood so abruptly he knocked his chair over, its thump like an exclamation point to his frustration. “This has been going on for two months. And that’s two months too long.”

  “Uh-huh.” Quinn’s gaze dropped to the manila folder on Clay’s desk. “What’s your opinion on the Guerrero connection now that you’ve had a chance to think it over?”

  Clay reached for the file and flipped it open. “Plenty likely, but no evidence against him or any of his known associates. Luke Denver, the MacKenna foreman, found some holes in his fence, his and Wade Larson’s.” Clay ran his finger down the page. “No vehicle tracks, no human tracks. Makes sense that they’d go out the way they came in and beat it for the border, especially if Guerrero was behind the operation, but since our contacts and informants are pretty sure they aren’t crossing near here with the trucks... well, with Guerrero’s auto dealerships, I suppose they could zip the vehicles straight to a local chop shop.”