Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy, page 3
Also, that unwelcome cowboy, Colt Larsen, had left me all tangled up in ropes. I needed to wrap my head around this damn case.
It didn’t sit well with me that Missy was missing at the very same time shit had gone down with Coach Granger, and that Colt Larsen had suddenly appeared and apparently knew something about all this mess that he didn’t intend on spilling yet. There was definitely more to this than a small town’s football coach’s marital affairs gone awry if the marshals were getting involved.
I placed a boot on the gas, revved the engine, and reversed down the dirt drive. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the front door being flung open and a pair of gray Lucchese cowboy boots claiming their spot on the porch. Abruptly, I threw the cruiser into drive, whipped the wheel around, and turned onto the dirt road. I stopped the car, rolled the passenger side window down, stretched belly flat across the console, and hollered, “Eat shit, Colt Larsen.”
Yeah, nobody ever said I took the high road when the low road was available.
“Seeing how you live here,” he hollered back, “I’m sure you can recommend a place.”
He lounged indolently against the doorway, and when his eyes locked in on mine, he tipped the Stetson up and sent me a killer smile. In response I flicked him the middle finger and hit the gas, blowing down FM 167. On any other given day, that level of trash talking would’ve made my day. Hell, there were nights when Gunner and I considered it foreplay.
The Pistol Rock Sheriff Station wasn’t much to brag about. Personally, the joint was a low-down dirty shame. It was sandwiched between a quarter-mile-long block of vacant storefronts with cardboard box-covered windows and redneck-graffiti brick walls. I chugged the cruiser up to the curb and stared at the headquarters of my promising career. I know. It’s pitiful.
In a town of two hundred, it was slim pickings when it came to finding a good man and a good job. I’d just unsnapped my seatbelt and placed a boot on the pavement when the sound of screeching tires caught my attention. I got out of the cruiser, rounded the rear bumper, and saw a pair of Levis stretching out of a red Jeep Wrangler two slots down. We locked eyes until that cocky grin formed across his face.
“Oh hell no!” I hauled ass to the front door of the station.
A car door slammed, and then he started to chase after me. I fumbled with my station keys. A cowboy as good-looking as Colt Larsen could be problematic, and that meant I needed to get as far away from him as possible as quickly as possible. And stay there. Also, I wasn’t too peachy about the fact that some outsider lawman felt the need to trample all over my damn turf. I stuck a key in the lock and turned the deadbolt, practically tripping over my feet as I stumbled inside the station.
It was a close call, but I shoved the door closed, giving Colt’s nose a close encounter with the glass.
“Go home!” I hollered through the glass. “You aren’t welcome.”
He pounded on the door. “Open the damn door, deputy. You’re stepping on the wrong toes here.” When he saw the unmoved expression on my face, he pressed his marshal’s badge flat against the glass door. “Need I remind you that you’re impeding an investigation being undertaken by a federal marshal, Deputy Briggs?”
“Don’t act like I’m impressed by your badge. I saw it already.”
“I can have you arrested for trying to keep me away from my goddamn case!”
I held up an assertive middle finger to the glass. “Welcome to Pistol Rock!” I huffed, fogging over the glass, then wiped it clean. “Now unless you wanna tell me what’s going on, I recommend you piss off.”
Colt yanked at the door handle.
“Good night, Colt Larsen,” I said, backing away from the door.
The corners of his mouth tugged up and wrinkles formed around the corners of his eyes as a slow, devious smile pulled at his lips. “Fine,” he conceded. “Just know payback is hell, Deputy Briggs.”
Then he turned on his heel, and I watched his Stetson vanish into the darkness.
“Who was that?”
I practically shed my skin at the sound of Elroy’s voice coming at me out of the blue. I spun around and propped my hands on my hips, coldly glaring him down. “What’s wrong with you, sneaking up on people like that?”
He shoved another chip in his mouth. “Sorry. I thought you knew I was here.”
“Yeah. I knew. I just—” I began.
“Well, aren’t you gonna tell me who you were talking to?” he asked, a tad more snappy than usual.
“Sure. But let me sit down first.”
I plopped into my chair, tossed my hat on top of the desk, then did the same with my legs. Leaning back, I shifted my weight to get comfortable and opened my mouth to begin telling him everything that had gone down since we’d parted ways at the stadium. “The gentleman I was speaking with is—”
“What the pretty lady was about to say,” a voice said, cutting me off in mid-sentence, “was that I’m the federal marshal she met at the Grangers’ place.”
I peeked past Elroy and wanted to die on the spot. There, hunkered down in the back corner of the station, a hip resting against the wall, and a muscular arm tossed over the Igloo water cooler, was Colt Larsen. “How the hell…?” He moved away from the wall and stood in the middle of the room, straight and tall. “More precisely, I’m Federal Marshal Colt Larsen from Tarpon Pass.” The smug asshole extended his hand toward Elroy.
“Tarpon Pass,” Elroy said, shaking his hand. “Now where might that be?”
“It’s down on the coast. Not too far south of Rockport,” Colt answered.
“Never heard of the place,” Elroy said.
“It’s a nice town,” Colt replied, then fixing his eyes on me, he added, “We’d love to have you come out and visit. We welcome folks of all kinds in our town.”
Elroy wiped his mouth. “My, my, a federal marshal.” He shot a look my way. “I bet Gunner’s going to lose it when he finds out you’ve tagged yourself another cowboy.”
Colt let out a short cough. “Do you mean Gunner Wilson?”
“Yeah. Who else would I be talking about?”
“I’ll be damned.” He smiled. “You’re the Laney Briggs.”
I shrugged. “And your point is?”
“It just all makes perfect sense why you shot at me tonight, that’s all.” He smiled some more, crossing by the desk and making a turn down the corridor leading to the single jail cell.
I got up and stalked after him. “Colt Larsen,” I shouted at his distancing back, “I’m warning you. If you take another step, I’ll…”
He spun around. “You’ll what? Shoot me?”
“Maybe.” I fisted my hands at my side. “Are you always a pain in the ass?”
He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Yes, ma’am. Well, that’s what my ex-wife used to always tell me.”
That silenced me for a minute. Before I could cough up a reply, Colt took it upon himself to help me out.
“I can’t believe it. The infamous Laney Briggs is speechless,” he taunted, winking. “Is it that you don’t see me as the marrying type?”
I narrowed my eyes and called, “Elroy, get the keys to the cell. We’re about to have ourselves a little chat with Mr. Granger.”
Rip was on the metal toilet reading a newspaper. He’d exchanged the pink nightie for a pair of ratty track shorts and an old Willie Nelson concert shirt that Elroy had picked up for Jacey Riggins, Pistol Rock’s local streetwalker, after stopping him for violating indecent exposure laws. Elroy must not have been able to stomach Rip in those sheer thongs anymore. Hell, I didn’t blame him. Frankly, I appreciated the fact he had taken the notion to wrap up the coach.
I approached the cell and thumped a bar. He looked up.
“You think you can wrap it up in there, Rip?” I dropped my chin at the paper slowly getting tangled up in his hands. “The boys and I have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”
He folded the paper in half. “No problem. The turtle ain’t coming out of its shell now.”
A few seconds later we were all seated around my desk, eyeballing and assessing each other. Finally, the cowboy seated across from me exhaled and hunched forward on his elbows.
“So, how good of a screw was your wife?” Colt asked, direct even by my standards.
“Excuse me?” Coach Granger asked, dumbfounded.
“Come on, Colt,” I interjected. “That’s unnecessary.”
He ignored me. “Tell me, Rip.” His voice ran cold and lethal. “I’ll bet she gave you whatever you wanted, didn’t she? Front door, back door, you name it.”
Coach Granger appeared ready to explode. “You son of a bitch!” he roared.
“It looks like I struck a nerve,” Colt responded. “I guess I’m hitting pretty close to home, aren’t I?”
Elroy and I looked at each other, dumbstruck. I couldn’t imagine having the balls to call a perfect stranger out on his bedroom proclivities. Sweat rippled down Rip’s nose. He squirmed in the wooden high-back chair and turned toward me, wide eyes pleading for salvation.
“We’re just trying to figure out what’s going on, Rip,” I started. “We found you passed out at the football stadium, dressed the way you were.”
“And it appears that you enjoyed yourself a little retreat with a few of the ladies from Bristol Mills,” added Elroy.
“And your wife is nowhere to be found. So, do you wanna tell us what’s going on?” finished Colt.
“She’s not at home?” Rip asked, befuddled.
“Nope,” Colt replied. “I looked your place up and down, and she’s gone without a trace.”
“You were at my house?”
“Yep. You can pretty much learn everything you need to know about a person just by looking in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. I’ll bet there were some nights the two of you made quite a mess in the bedroom.”
“I was there, too, Rip,” I said, trying to settle him down, “and he didn’t make it past your living room. He’s just trying to mess with you for some reason.”
“Oh,” Rip replied.
“Why don’t you start by telling us how you ended up at the football field tonight in that there sexy lingerie,” Colt suggested, not letting it go as he slapped the plastic bag stuffed with the unsightly getup that he’d swiped from Elroy’s desk.
“Can I talk to you instead, Laney?” Rip asked politely, giving Colt a sideways glance. “I don’t really like that guy very much.”
This was true. Colt had a way of making everyone’s skin itch. Talk about a cowboy problem. Gunner wasn’t even in town and I was irritated with him and every other fancy boots-wearing lawman in the vicinity. “Sure.” I let out a resigned sigh and shrugged off the marshal’s pissed-off look. “What do you have to say?”
Rip pinched his mouth into a thin line. His eyes darted between Colt and me, slowly popping his knuckles. I was fixing to kick the chair out from underneath him if he didn’t hurry up and tell me something I could use. Finally, he sighed deeply before letting it all fall out.
“We’ve been having marital troubles. Missy was bored and wanted more.” Rip turned toward me. “She wanted kids.”
Colt slammed his fist down on the table. “That’s bullshit.”
I cut an eye over Colt. Any minute now, he was going to explode. “Don’t mind the federal marshal,” I said, patting Rip’s hand. “He’s just been out of commission with the ladies lately, and it’s starting to make him a little cranky.”
Rip flinched at my touch. He jerked his hand away and stuffed it under his thigh. “Tonight was supposed to be us turning over a new leaf,” he confided. “The lingerie was Missy’s idea. She’s wanted to role play and told me that a man in drag really did it for her.”
Colt crossed his arms, slid back in the chair, and snorted. “I bet.”
I gave Colt a questioning look. “Go on, Rip.”
Rip shifted uncomfortably in the chair, taking in all the eyes around him ready to pounce at the slightest wrong answer. He mumbled something indecipherable.
“Huh?” I asked.
His lips moved again, but I still couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Rip, you’re going to have to speak up,” I told him.
Before the man had a chance to respond, Colt laughed and spoke up for him. “I do believe what Mr. Granger was trying to say was that his dick”—his eyes shot down to Rip’s pants—“wasn’t in the mood to play.”
My mouth fell open. “Hey now.” I pointed a finger in Colt’s face. “I’m about to kick your ass out of here if you don’t mind your manners.”
He gave me a shit bag of a smile and slid back down in his seat.
“Well,” Rip said, apparently emboldened by my response to the marshal, “she knew I’d be uncomfortable with the whole idea, so she had the whiskey waiting for me alongside the, uh, unmentionables. Of course, she was right. I was uncomfortable with the whole dressing-up thing, but I wanted to save our marriage, so I dove right into that bottle. The next thing I remember is waking up at the football stadium with you and Elroy standing over me.”
“And I suppose you don’t know anything about Missy being missing or who trashed your house?” I asked, already knowing the answer I’d get.
“Not a thing. I swear.”
“It’s no biggie, Rip,” Colt said. “You aren’t the first guy she’s pulled this stunt on.”
Rip straightened up, offended by the assertion. “Beg pardon?”
Colt pushed his Stetson up so he was eye to eye with the coach. “It’s Kate Matthews’s modus operandi,” he said in a low and steady voice. “She uses those showgirl looks to wrangle the men in, and then BAM!” He clapped his hands and shot forward in his chair. “She takes you for every penny tied to your name.”
For a moment there, I thought we’d need a shovel to scrape Rip’s tongue off the floor.
“You sure do know a lot about this Kate woman,” I said, feeling pretty damn suspicious. “I have one tiny question.”
He diverted his attention from Rip back to me. “Shoot, honey-pie,” he drawled, setting every nerve in my body on end.
Even though I itched to dump him on his ass for that honey-pie, all I said was, “Well, why don’t you tell us how long you and Kate were together, and how much cash she swindled out of you?”
For a second the smug smile fell from his rugged, cowboy face. Hot dang. That’d hit a nerve. He shook off the thoughtfulness, scrubbing his jaw as his gray eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t have a clue as to what you’re hinting at, Deputy Briggs.”
If he wanted to play the dumb card…well, I’d give him a pass—at least for now. I decided to change the line of questioning until he was ready to spill the beans. “I think you might’ve forgotten, but the case we’re working is about Missy Granger.”
That smooth talker’s smile returned. “Darling, they’re one and the same.”
“Come again?” we all asked in unison.
Colt uncrossed his arms and knuckle tapped the table. “Missy Granger is Kate Matthews,” he told us. “And Kate Matthews is wanted statewide for fraud. She scopes out unsuspecting dumbasses”—he cut an eye over at Rip—“gets them to fall head over heels for her, and then poof! She’s cleaned out their bank account and hit the trail for the next idiot in line.”
Okay, I’ll admit I didn’t see that one coming. I gnawed on my bottom lip, contemplating my next move. Shit! Why did I always have to get strapped with the crazy ones?
“How do you know all this about Missy…I mean, Kate?” I asked Colt. “Did you happen to be one of the idiots in line?”
He pushed back from the table and tugged the Stetson dangerously low. “I’ve been following this case for a while now. Almost eight years, to be exact. I’ve been chasing her all over the state, always a couple of steps behind her. Is that good enough for you, Deputy Briggs, or would you like to stop by my room at the motel and take a look at the files I have on her?” He winked, making my heart flip and flop inside my chest. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”
That’s when my thighs went numb. I have problems, and I’m still looking for a solution. It’s been a real nail biter. It’d been two weeks since I’d last stroked Gunner’s boner and not having him to take away my nightmares was making me antsy. I knew I had to get a handle on that aspect of myself, but it was a challenge—sometimes more than others.
Now, for instance.
I pulled a tight smile. “Nope.” I shook my head. “I think I’m all good here.”
“Just checking.” He gave me a sly grin. “You look like you could use a stress reliever.”
My eyes narrowed as my temper did an uncharacteristically slow burn. I was not going to let this asswipe get the better of me just because I missed Gunner’s teasing—and body. Jumping to my boots, I cocked a brow at him. “Shooting at you is the most fun I intend on having with you,” I gritted out and stormed past him. “Elroy, you think you can hold down the fort?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder at my partner. “And don’t forget to let Rip sleep off the booze in the drunk tank.”
Elroy mindlessly nodded while food fell from his mouth.
“I’m gonna head over to Abby Sims’s place early tomorrow morning to see if Mrs. Granger spilled her guts to her bowling-league partner.” I pushed open the door and added, “Will you call Clark Woodville and ask him if the Grangers’ bank account has been drained?” I tilted my head back to look at Colt. “We need to check and see if the marshal’s story adds up.”
Elroy nodded again.
Personally, I figured that was the best I was going to get. “Okay, then.” I stepped outside.
Hard to believe I still had six more hours until daybreak. Tonight was starting to eat at me. If I could wrap up all the loose ends, then maybe my head might hit the pillow before the night was over. I pulled out my keys as I pounded down the sidewalk. God, I was tired, my head hurt, and I was so regretting that half a beer at Rusty’s when a hand coiled around my elbow.
