Texas Tough (16 page)

Sky hadn't heard from Lauren since the night she'd driven him back to the house. She'd done a good job of hiding her anger until the very last. But her parting question, after he'd promised to be there for her, had betrayed her true feelings.

Will you?
she'd demanded, then gunned the car and shot down the drive without giving him a chance to reply.

Sky couldn't say he blamed her. He'd tried to do the best thing for them both, but clearly that wasn't what she'd wanted. He missed her more than he'd ever thought possible. There'd been times when he'd almost called her. Pride had stopped him, but now he had a reason. If Lauren was still on the ranch, she would need to be warned about the fire danger.

Maybe it was a lame excuse. But the urge to hear her voice and know she was all right drove him to punch in the number and press the call button. The phone rang on the other end—once, then again and again before the recorded answer voice came on.

Never mind. The fire danger was on all the news broadcasts and in the paper. There was no way anybody with eyes and ears could miss it. He'd only been using it as an excuse to make an unnecessary call, and Lauren would have seen right through him.

Sky ended the call without leaving a message.

CHAPTER 12

L
auren slid into the booth at Burger Shack and greeted the smiling blond woman who waited for her on the other side of the table.

“Thanks for meeting me, Tori. When I called your number, all I wanted was the name of a Realtor. I certainly didn't expect to be having lunch with you. Since you're doing me a favor, I hope you'll let me treat you.”

“Only if you promise to let me treat next time—and that there will be a next time.” Will's ex-wife sipped the Diet Coke she'd ordered along with the mushroom pizza they'd agreed to split. She was a stunning woman, tall and slim, her loose, sun-streaked hair anchored by the sunglasses she'd pushed up onto her head.

Lauren had put off phoning her, hoping she could find a place to rent or buy on her own. But after weeks of scanning the ads in the paper and finding nothing, she'd summoned her nerve and called the number Sky had given her. Tori's friendly manner had put her at ease right away.

The teenage waitress came to take Lauren's order—a Coke to go with the pizza. Lauren had turned off her cell phone in the car. She didn't want this visit interrupted by a call, especially from her father, grilling her about where she was and whom she was with.

“As I told you,” Tori continued, “Blanco Springs is a small town. There's not enough business here to support a Realtor. But my work helps keep me on top of what's happening. If you'll tell me what you're looking for, I can at least keep an ear to the ground.”

“Thanks,” Lauren said. “Things have become nonstop crazy with my father. He's started tracking my every move. And he keeps pressuring me to date men who can help his campaign. I've got to get out on my own.”

Tori nodded. “Knowing your father, I can understand that. But you could go anywhere. Why would you want to stay here?”

Lauren swirled the ice in her Coke, hesitating before she answered. “Funny, Sky asked me the same question.”

“And I believe you just answered it.” Tori's smile was warm and knowing. “You're actually blushing.”

“It's a redhead thing. So embarrassing. I've always hated it.”

“Don't you dare change the subject. Beau did mention there were some sparks between you two.”

“There were, but not anymore.” Even saying it hurt, but Lauren wanted to be honest. “We're not seeing each other. His idea, not mine.”

“Why am I not surprised? I've known Sky since he was a teenager. I don't know what you'd call it—pride, maybe, for want of a better word. But if you offer the man something wonderful, he'll come up with a whole litany of reasons why he doesn't deserve it and shouldn't accept it. Usually he'll end up walking away, which is probably why he's not married—though, heaven knows, some very sharp ladies have tried to land him.”

“The way you make it sound, the breakup was his fault. But it was really mine—because I ran away without telling him, and because of my issues with my fiancé's death and with my father. Sky told me to call him when I got my life together. So that's what I'm trying to do. Even if I never get him back, I need to do this, Tori. Sky was right about me. I'm a wreck.”

“But he
did
tell you to call him. He left the door wide open. Coming from Sky, that's a lot. Did he tell you anything else?”

“Yes. The very last thing he said before I drove away was that if I needed him, he'd be there for me.” Lauren blinked away tears. “I was hurting, so I just blew him off. Oh, blast it, I didn't mean to unload on you like this. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Tori reached across the table and patted her arm. “There's one more thing I want to say, and then we'll talk about something else. Sky had a hellish childhood before he came to the Rimrock.”

Lauren remembered the scars she'd glimpsed on Sky's back. “I suspected something like that,” she said.

“He learned to guard his feelings,” Tori said. “He's still so protective that he has a hard time letting anyone in. But underneath that lone-wolf, tough-man shell, Sky Fletcher is one of the gentlest, most compassionate people I've ever known.”

“I know,” Lauren said. “I've seen how he is with the horses, and with your daughter.”

“Then you've seen the real Sky. And you have to know that if he says he'll be there for you, he means it.”

Only the distraction of the waitress bringing their pizza kept Lauren from crumbling. “That's all well and good,” she said. “But for now, I have to be a big girl and move on as if I never expect to hear from him again. Who knows? Maybe I won't—and maybe that's for the best, at least for him.” She was putting on a brave face. But even saying the words was like jabbing herself with a cold steel knife.

“But you're here—for now, at least.” Tori scooped a slice of pizza onto her plate, giving it a moment to cool. “So tell me what you need.”

“Two things,” Lauren said. “A place to live and some steady work. I've got money in a trust fund from my mother, enough to live on for a while, maybe even make a down payment on a little house. But I could burn through it all too easily, and I don't want to do that.”

“Of course you don't.”

“Buying a house would tie up my cash, but it would be like an investment. I could always sell it later, maybe at a profit.”

“True, but given how uncertain things are for you, wouldn't you be better off renting?”

“Maybe. But as far as I know, there's nothing out there.” Lauren shook her head. “I know it would make more sense for me to leave. But I've been running away from my problems for too long. I need to stop and face them, and Blanco Springs is as good a place as any.”

“So it's not just about Sky.”

“Right now it can't be.” Lauren slid a pizza slice onto her plate. “As for the work, I'm pretty much finished at the Tylers' and the bookkeeping I do for the ranch syndicate is only part time. Living at the ranch, it's been enough. But to get by on my own, I'll need more clients, or a full-time job somewhere.”

Tori sipped her Coke. “I might have a few connections. I'll ask around. But about the rentals—there's an apartment complex on the edge of town. I'm pretty sure it's full, but I know the manager. I can ask her if anybody's given notice.”

“Thanks. I'll cross my fingers.”

“There's another possibility. I'm settling Hoyt Axelrod's estate for his children. I could ask them if they'd be interested in renting the house until it sells—maybe with an option for you to buy it.”

Lauren shuddered. “Sky suggested that, too. I just don't know . . .”

“I understand,” Tori said. “But keep an open mind. You never knew Hoyt. He was a decent man, upheld the law, raised a good family. His wife was a lovely person. But after she died, something went dark in him. I'm not usually one to spread gossip, but I think Stella Rawlins, the woman who owns the Blue Coyote, had a lot to do with it. What happened to him in the end was a tragedy.”

“Beau told me the story. He murdered three people and almost killed Sky.”

“Yes, he did.” Tori's expression was sad but wise. “But the home is a nice little place, well kept, probably cheaper and certainly more private than the apartments would be. I have the key anytime you'd like to look at it.”

“I'll keep it in mind. But—”

“No pressure.” Tori smiled. “Just think about it.”

Lauren thought about it all the way back to the ranch. In some ways the Axelrod house would be perfect for her needs. But the idea that a murderer had lived inside those walls would haunt every hour she spent there. She could get rid of the furniture, repaint the walls, replace the fixtures and floor coverings. But even then there was no way she would feel at ease. For now she would trust to luck and hope one of the apartments, or some other place, would open up.

When she reached the house, her father was waiting on the porch, a glass of bourbon in his hand. Fighting the temptation to turn the car around and drive away, she pulled into the shade and switched off the engine. Her father rose as she mounted the front steps.

“I tried to call you, but evidently you'd turned off your phone. If you were with that half-breed Fletcher—”

“I was having lunch with Tori Tyler,” Lauren said, holding back her temper. “I asked her to help me find a place to live in town.”

“Live in town? Hell, you live here!” he snapped. “This is your home! Why should you pay good money for some rat hole in Blanco? And since when do you know Tori?”

Lauren willed herself not to lash out at him. He'd been hard to live with when she'd first arrived. Now his behavior was becoming erratic. While he tracked her every move, or tried to, he guarded his own secrets almost obsessively. She'd begun to worry about his mental state. She might have pushed him to see a doctor, but with the primary and the general election coming up, she knew it wasn't going to happen. She owed the man nothing, Lauren reminded herself. But he was her father and, in spite of everything, she couldn't help worrying about him.

“I need to be on my own, Dad,” she said. “Someone at the Tylers' suggested I call Tori. I met her for the first time today. She's a nice woman—seems to know more than a little about you.”

He took a swig from his bourbon glass. “What Tori knows about me is none of your damn business. And you're not fooling me, girl. The only reason you want to be on your own is so you can screw that bastard Fletcher.”

Lauren gasped. She'd tried to remain calm, but his last accusation had sunk home—maybe because it was at least partly true. She drew herself up. “Maybe I should be the one asking questions. You're coming home at all hours, sometimes staying out all night. When you walk in, the smell of that awful perfume leaves a trail behind you all the way down the hall. Your car reeks of it. Who's the woman, Dad? Is she married? Is that why you won't tell me?”

His hand came up. For an instant Lauren thought he was going to strike her. But then he lowered his arm, turned away, and with a muttered curse stalked into the house.

Lauren's legs were quivering. She sank onto the top step, fists clenched on her knees. With the primary election coming up next month, Garn Prescott had become a walking pressure cooker—and just now he'd nearly exploded.

Since they'd never had a real father–daughter relationship, she didn't know him as well as she might have. Even so, she could tell something was terribly wrong, and it wasn't just politics. He was behaving as if he'd bargained his soul and the buyer was about to demand payment.

Lauren fumbled for the cell phone in her purse, then pushed it aside. How many times had she recalled Sky's parting words? How many times had she reached for that phone, then stopped herself before she could punch in his number? Tori had reassured her that Sky meant what he'd said. But that didn't mean she could go running to him every time she needed a shoulder to cry on. She had to prove that she was strong enough to handle things on her own—not only to Sky but to herself.

 

“What do you mean, it's gone, Nicky?” Stella faced her brother across the bar, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. Her survival had always depended on making sure nothing fell through the cracks. Now, three days after the discovery of a murdered body on the Tyler ranch, something had. The Glock she'd given Nick for protection in the bar was missing—the Glock that was legally registered to
her
.

Nick cringed under his half sister's withering gaze. Older by seven years, Stella had always protected him. She alone understood that beneath the skin of the tough-looking biker was a scared, vulnerable man, too slow-witted to survive a lawless world on his own.

He was the one person she truly cared about.

“What did you do with it?” she demanded.

“N-nothing, I swear to God,” he stammered. “I haven't touched that gun since I loaded it and put it in the drawer.”

“When was the last time you saw it?”

“A while ago.” He shrugged, eyes lowered. “Don't really remember.”

“Nicky—” Her eyes narrowed. “I know when you're hiding something. Tell me the truth. When did you first notice the gun was missing?”

“A few days ago. I thought I must've moved it and forgot, and that I'd find it somewhere. I knew you'd be mad if I told you.”

Stella exhaled, feeling the knot tighten in the pit of her stomach. “Did you notice anybody looking at it? Anybody opening the drawer?”

“Nobody.” He picked up a glass and began polishing it with a towel.

Unable to contain her anxiety, Stella turned away and walked back down the hall toward her office. Abner Sweeney, her eyes and ears in town, had mentioned that his deputy had found a Glock not far from where a body had turned up on the Tylers' ranch. It didn't make sense that the pistol could be the one missing from the bar. But if it was, the serial number could be linked to her, and the prints on the gun could be linked to Nick.

Opening her desk, she took out a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. Hands shaking, she lit the cigarette and inhaled the bitter, calming smoke. Abner had also told her the dead man was a cousin of Sky Fletcher's—Lute's brother, most likely—and that he'd been growing weed on Sky's land. None of that had anything to do with her or with Nicky, but if the murder weapon could be traced to the bar, who was going to believe it?

Sinking into the chair, she leaned back, blew a smoke ring, and watched it dissolve against the low ceiling. This was no time to panic, she told herself. She hoped it wouldn't be too late for some damage control.