Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (12 page)

Kevin grabbed hold of the patrol car's door handle and hesitated.

"One more thing. Not that it has anything to do with our earlier conversation, but a horse, I think it was an English Thoroughbred owned by some hoity-toity Brit, turned up dead at Charles Town Races yesterday."

"The track in West Virginia."

Kevin nodded. "Came over the wire this morning. FBI's investigating this one along with all the others."

She eyed Kevin. "You know that's no coincidence."

"It's starting to look that way."

"It's happened before. I looked it up on the Internet."

Kevin moaned. "Stick to your day job."

Bren made a face. "I think it's time for you to go."

Kevin grabbed his Stetson off the hood. "I know when you're shooing me away."

"Then shoo." Bren motioned with her hands and turned to head up the steps.

The diesel engine coming up the driveway sent splinters of anxiety to the pit of her stomach. Rafe cut the engine off, and she cursed under her breath.

Finn sat up straight. "Who's that, Mom?"

"Mr. Langston. He bought the other half of Grace. Remember?"

Kevin stopped midway inside his patrol car.

"I thought you were leaving."

"Not a chance." Kevin walked back and whispered, "Someone needs to keep you in line."

The door to the truck opened, and a long, lean, jean-clad leg stepped out, his black boots covered in mud. Rafe Langston, from the few times she'd been acquainted with him, kept his boots shined to a high luster. He stepped down, and four large paws followed, springing from the cab.

"A dog!"

Bren's head swiveled behind her. She'd never seen Aiden move so fast. He was up, tossed his cell phone on top of his backpack, and was racing up on her.

Rafe gave her a sheepish grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Oh no. I told you I wasn't ready for—"

She stopped. Those pitiful eyes and droopy ears pulled at her heart. "A bloodhound," she moaned.

"He was destined for the gallows."

"Yeah, right." She frowned at Rafe.

"You said puppy. He's not. He's close to a year. Potty trained and listens real well." Rafe looked at the gangly bloodhound. "Sit."

The hound yawned and plopped his hindquarters on the gravel, stretched, yawned again, and lay down, licking his chops.

"He's lazy, not a listener," Bren complained.

Finn came up next to her and hugged her waist. "Can we keep him?"

"Yeah, Mom," Aiden piped in as he knelt down beside the dog and patted his head. Aiden studied the dog. "We could name him—"

"Roscoe," Rafe interrupted.

"That's cool," Aiden agreed. Lifting his chin, he smiled at Rafe.

Bren hadn't seen that easy curl of Aiden's lips since Tom died. Rafe bent down and rubbed Roscoe's ears. "Aiden, right?"

Aiden nodded.

"I'm Rafe Langston. I bought your grandfather's house." He glanced up at Bren. "I know that's a sore spot with your family. But I hope we can be friends."

Aiden shot a questioning look at Bren.

Bren smiled. "It's okay. Mr. Langston and I have worked through that issue."

Kevin jabbed her in the ribs, whispering under his breath, "It didn't take you long to warm up to the cowboy."

Bren stepped closer. "Don't you have someplace you
should
be?" she said under her breath.

He rocked back on his heels and smiled. "I'm good."

"So we can keep Roscoe?" Aiden asked.

Bren's shoulders slumped at the prospect, and she pinned Rafe with her eyes. "How about his shots? Is he wormed?"

Rafe grimaced and looked down at his mud-caked boots and then gave her a lopsided grin. "Yes, ma'am. I even bathed him myself."

That explained a lot.

"Can I pet him?" Finn pulled on her coat.

"Sure, sweetie."

Finn dropped to the ground next to Aiden. His small hand stroked Roscoe's nose, and the dog licked him. He giggled and peered back at Bren. "He's soft." Roscoe licked him again. "And wet."

Kevin nudged Bren in the ribs. "Give the man an answer."

How could she say no? He'd gone through a tremendous amount of effort. But it wasn't the energy he'd spent as much as the thought behind it. He'd never met her boys officially. Unofficially, he'd only seen them once, and that was at a distance.

"You're the oldest, Aiden. He'd be your responsibility," Bren said.

Rafe winked at Bren, and it warmed her straight through.

"He's meant for tracking," Rafe said. "I've trained my own. I'd be more than willing to teach yours."

"Awesome. Thanks, Mr.—"

Rafe squeezed his shoulder. "Call me Rafe."

"Thanks, Rafe." He turned back to Bren. "I promise to take care of him, okay?"

All eyes singled her out, and she caved. "Okay."

"Yay!" Finn jumped to his feet and spun around, and Roscoe barked.

Rafe gave Aiden a high-five and made his way toward Bren and Kevin. He reached out a greeting. "Sheriff." He grinned at Bren.

Kevin looked to Bren and then Rafe. "I'm guessing she apologized."

"I'm guessing you've overstayed your welcome," Bren added.

Kevin laughed. "Some things never change." He nodded toward the boys. "Aiden, you take care of that dog. And, Finn, you make sure he does."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

The screen door slammed. Her father stood on the porch, a white apron tied around his waist, his hands on hips. "What the devil?" His gaze narrowed in on Roscoe. "You can't be serious."

"Meet the newest member of the family," Bren announced.

"He's the saddest excuse for dog if I've ever seen one. He needs fattening up."

Kevin stepped into his cruiser and lowered his window. "You all, take care."

"Kevin, I've got Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes." Daniel beckoned.

Kevin waved from the car. "Got a date, Daniel."

Bren whistled through her teeth.

Kevin frowned and waved a dismissive hand her way. "I'll see ya later."

Her father came down the steps as he concentrated on Roscoe and then the man standing next to her. "I suppose you would be the one responsible."

Rafe reached over. "Rafe Langston. Nice to meet you, Mr. Fallon."

He shook Rafe's hand and hesitated before he let go. "Ah, you got a look about you. Familiar." He adjusted his glasses. "It must be me old eyes. If I've seen you before, I can't place it."

"Dad, Rafe's from Texas."

"Right. Well, maybe I've seen you in town. At any rate, it's time for supper. I've got plenty to go around, Mr. Langston. How about you join us? Bren's already confided there's no Missus—"

"Dad!" Bren cringed. Tact was not Daniel Fallon's middle name.

Her father grimaced. "Not that she meant anything by it," he said, qualifying his statement.

"We get it." She cleared her throat, hoping he'd zip it before she turned a deeper red.

"Mr. Fallon, I think I'll take you up on that offer." Rafe placed his hand in the middle of Bren's back, and her stomach fluttered.

H
e did not." Jo bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh, yeah. Made me out to be some desperate widow." Bren mimicked her father from last night and her confession concerning Rafe Langston's marital status, then made a face in the mirror and pulled on the off-the-shoulder, ruby-lace top, barely a veil against her pale skin. The Wonderbra she'd purchased, plumping her medium-sized breasts over the plunging neckline, made her blush. "Do you think I need to show more cleavage?"

Jo pursed her lips, staring at her and Bren's reflection in the oval mirror of Jo's bedroom. "I think this is a bad idea."

Bren closed her ears to Jo's voice of reason. It was not like she looked forward to slinking around the Bear Claw. But bars were where deals were made. Lips moved more smoothly. Men were easy. Secrets escaped unknowingly in the presence of a provocatively dressed woman. Bren smoothed down the snug black suede skirt that did little to hide a pair of long, slender legs. She turned on her toes, tried to take a step, and wobbled in her new, black, shiny stilettos.

"Jeez.
You're going to fall on your ass," Jo said.

"They're not work boots, but I can manage." Bren reached for the bobby pins and spun her red hair up and secured it. "Hand me the wig."

"I should never have let you talk me into this."

"Don't get cold feet now. You're my wheels."This plan had been henpecking at her brain for weeks. Jeremy's business trip had worked in her favor. Jo's house to prepare for her undercover sting was perfect.

"Here." Jo passed the long blonde wig she'd spent a fortune on at a local beautician store.

Bren let it fall past her shoulders. "Curling iron." She held out her hand.

Jo handed it off, and Bren began to roll the hair around the curling iron as though it were real. She bent close to the mirror and smoothly attached a set of fake eyelashes. She applied charcoal eye shadow and a gray liner, blush, and a shimmering pink glaze on her lips. She stood back.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Bren clenched her teeth.

"You... you don't—"

"Look like me?" She raised two well-shaped, russet eyebrows at Jo in the mirror.

"Not at all. Turn around." Jo motioned with her finger.

Bren turned and didn't teeter. Shaking her blonde hair, she studied herself. Something was missing.

Jo dangled the cubic zirconia earrings in the mirror. "This what you're looking for?"

Bren smiled and took them from Jo. "Thanks." She attached them to her ears. Still, there was something else. She ticked off her disguise: lashes, wig... lashes. Contacts! The small black handbag with the thin strap sat on Jo's dressing table. She grabbed it and pulled out a pair of foil wrapped blue contacts.

Jo shook her head. "You thought of everything."

"Had to. A hair change is easy. Eyes are permanent. If anyone questions who I am, they won't be thinking of the dark redhead with brown eyes." Bren opened her right eye, blinked, then cursed. She tried again, and this time the lens went in. The next one followed without too much fuss. Bren turned for final inspection. "I know colored contacts are easy to get, but do you really think this group will think that deeply about it?"

"Not a chance." Jo plopped on the bed. "I don't even recognize you."

A smile curved Bren's lips. "You ready?"

Jo thumped down the stairs, and Bren followed, balancing on her heels as they strode out the door. They slipped into Jo's dark Chevy Tahoe and headed toward Williamsport, and the Bear Claw Tavern, ten miles down Route 68. Bren snuggled inside the borrowed faux-fur jacket of Jo's and shivered.

She'd lied to her father as she slipped out the front door in jeans when Jo pulled up, told him they were going out to dinner and that they were going to see a late movie in Hagerstown.

No way could she tell her father what she was up to. It was bad enough she had enlisted Jo's help. And as far as her newfound friend Rafe Langston went, something told her he might be less than thrilled if he knew the details of her plan.

Jo glanced at Bren. "So tell me about your new neighbor."

Bren pressed her head back into the seat. "He's a cowboy born and raised in Texas."

"Why's he here?"

"He said to be a dairy farmer."

"Most cowboys I've ever heard of draw a hard line between beef and dairy."

Jo only confirmed her own thoughts on the matter. "Not sure I buy it, either."

"Did he say much at dinner about his plans?"

"Not much. The boys couldn't stop talking about Roscoe and asking Rafe questions about his ranch back home."

"They like him."

"What's not to like if you're a boy? He even had me enthralled with the life of a cowboy. The three have become fast friends. Aiden even offered to show him the duck blind he and Tom built."

"What do you think?"

"Seems nice enough. Anyone who can make Aiden smile has my vote."

"I saw him at the sale barn when you and Wes got into it. He's hot." Jo peered over and grinned. "And you know it, Bren Ryan."

Bren groaned. "Not interested."

"Liar."

Those sharp green eyes of Rafe Langston came into focus in Bren's mind, and her belly dipped. Eye candy was one thing, but a relationship with Rafe, or any man, no matter how sexy, wasn't going to happen. "He's my neighbor, Jo. My boys' new best friend." That bothered her. What did she really know about the cowboy from Weatherford, Texas? She, for one, found the whole beef versus dairy thing suspicious. Plus, why move clear across the U.S.? Even if he and his father didn't agree, certainly there were farms in Texas to accommodate his needs.

Jo nudged Bren. "What?"

"How'd you like to do a little investigative work? I'll pay you. Name your price."

"Don't do this."

"This?"

"Bear Claw."

"Jo, I have to. If Wes killed Tom, he may have confided in one of them. If I can get one to talk, I'll get justice."

"You worry me." Jo gave Bren a sideways glance. "Who else needs to be investigated?"

Other than Wes, she had a short list. "Rafe."

"Rafe?" Jo shook her head.

"Just poke around."

"Fine. I'll check him out." Jo reached over and squeezed Bren's knee. "I love you like a sister. I'm sure Rafe has nothing to hide. But there's nothing wrong with knowing for sure."

Bren patted Jo's hand. "Thanks." She leaned forward to see the approaching sign. "We're getting close. Don't drop me off at the door. Park down from the tavern, and I'll walk the rest of the way."

"I don't—"

"I'll be fine."

Jo pulled up into the Exxon gas station next to the Bear Claw Tavern. "Got your cell?"

Bren reached into her black bag. "Right here. But this could take a few hours, Jo. I'll call you when I'm done. Clear Spring is fifteen minutes away. Go home."

"I can—"

"No. You've helped me enough. I only need you to pick me up. I'll give you plenty advance notice."

Bren stepped down from the Tahoe and winked at Jo.

"Hey, Bren, what about your voice?" Jo's concerned eyes locked in on Bren under the glow of the interior light.